


Almost Human

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dogs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Puppy Play, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim Kirk get's to take a look inside the world of Starfleet's high-ups he's not sure he likes what he finds. It's a world where humans can be bought as nothing more than household pets and while at first Jim is disgusted Pike, and his 'dog' Leo, slowly but surely win him round, or do they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Human

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not exactly sure I know what was going on in my head when I wrote this, it's darker than canon but not set up as an MU at all. I don't know if I should apologize now or...? This isn't McKirk the whole way through (but it sort of is - you just have to bare with me). I think the best thing to do is just wish you luck and let you read it for yourself.

 

...

It is not uncommon for those with wealth and status to keep a 'dog' or two. The traditional dog had provided companionship and devotion since the dawning of time and has earned the endearment 'man's best friend'. But for the rich socialites of Terran a different sort of 'dog' is kept. Jim's first experience of one is at an intimate dinner hosted by the newly promoted Admiral Pike at his ranch in Mojave. Apparently humans can be conditioned to be just as loyal as any other household pet.  _Even more loyal, Jim, that's the appeal_. But Jim can't see the appeal. Well, not if he wants to keep his conscience intact anyway. Jim can't even look at him and see a dog. He looks down at the mammal perched at Chris' feet and sees a  _man_.

A naked man.

With ears.

And a tail.

And it's not as ridiculous as it sounds.

"Setter."

"What?" Jim snaps his eyes back to Chris. 

"The breed." Chris clarifies with an easy smile. "He's an Irish Setter."

"Are you insane?" Jim whispers and Chris replies with a booming laugh.

"I know it can be strange seeing one for the first time but he's just like any other household pet." Chris assures. "Shall we go through?" Chris ushers Jim into his sitting room and seems to think the conversation is over.

"Does he bark?" Jim asks, looking back into the hallway, the 'dog's' head is cocked and he watches Jim with a steady hazel-eyed gaze.

"On occasion. Although it's something we've been working on." Chris admits, looking pointedly at his pet as if this is a topic of many conversations. "Anything else?" The Admiral is smirking, knowing Jim's inquisitive nature will overwhelm his sense of prudence.

"How do the ears work?"

"There is a low level magnetic chip on the outside of their skulls that the chip on the base of the ears clips into." Chris begins.

"Through the flesh?" Jim questions, throwing a worried glance at the 'dog' who is now curled up by the foyer stairs. Chris nods.

"It’s not painful once it’s healed. Their human ears are cut and sewn up with auditory system is rewired to work with the chip." Chris finishes.

"And the tail?" Jim's not sure he really wants to know, curiosity killed the cat after all and with all this shit going on that could mean _him_ nailed inside a coffin.

"Not nearly as sophisticated. It's pretty much a glorified anal plug." Chris shrugs. "I don't know how comfortable you are with all this..." Chris tapers off; he's offering Jim an out but-

"Curiosity is slightly winning out." Jim admits and Chris grants him that warm fatherly smile. 

"Leo's rather sensitive, prostate wise." He pauses and Jim just nods, as if this is a typical tea-time conversation to be having. "So the plug is rather shallow, but thick, bulbed, to make sure it stays in. When they're pups- children." He corrects himself for Jim's benefit. "They're hair colour is matched with that of a dog breed and the ears and tail are made."

"Children? He's been like this since he was a child?" Jim whispers. Like saying it too loud will make the horror of it all even worse.

"Well Leo's a pedigree." Chris nods. "Some people elect to have the surgery when they're older but they're not as desirable."

"How is a child meant to elect to have this surgery?" Jim demands.

"They don't, it's just in the family. They don't know any different." Chris explains.

"Can he talk? Standard I mean." Jim clarifies.

 "No, or if they can they're clever enough not to do so in public." Chris says with a sternness that remind Jim of his command lectures. 

"How long have you had him?" Jim wonders.

"Ten years."

"How old is he _actually_?" Jim asks a little more coldly.

"Twenty-eight."

Jim looks back at the 'dog', Leo, who has wandered closer to the sitting room but hasn't crossed the threshold from the hall. He looks younger than Jim does, or Jim thinks so anyway, and he's just celebrated his twenty fifth birthday.

"And the paws?" Jim notices, so he asks.

"Another surgical procedure." Chris says. "Again the fur is matched by breed and the two front paws are crafted and sewn around the existing hand, the pads of the paws are actually the pads of his fingers. It's quite remarkable."

"Sounds cruel." Jim states.

"Well that's why they haven't taken the commercial market by storm." Chris nods. "They're usually riddled with arthritis by the time they're thirty five and there are a million other complications if they're not taken care of correctly."

"And what happens then?" Jim asks.

"What happens to any dog that gets ill." Chris says and brakes his gaze with Jim for the first time since the conversation started. Whether he's embarrassed or something else entirely Jim can't decide.

"You'll take him to a vet and have him put down?" Jim exclaims, outraged.

And the 'dog' barks.

A deep throaty, distinctly _canine_ , bark.

"Leo." Chris scolds and the 'dog' rests his nose on one of his paws, making a low apologetic whimper before huffing.

"I don't even understand why? You could just have a normal dog. I mean this is like slavery but he can't actually do anything for you." Jim says, really trying to understand this situation if only to salvage his high opinions of the Admiral. And Chris bites his lip, finally at a point in the conversation that makes him uncomfortable. And it clicks. "It's a sex thing, isn't it?" Jim whispers.

"Jim." Chris reasons. "It's no different to most lifestyle dom-sub relationships."

"That's a _ridiculous_ thing to say. I'd say the main difference is _consent_. But you know the ability to use your _hands_ is probably up there too." Jim shouts. And the 'dog' barks again.

"Leo!" Chris warns. "Sit."

"Oh Christ." Jim spits. "What are you going to do now, smack him on the snout with a rolled up newspaper? Oh wait, no, he doesn't _have_ a snout. Because he's _human_!"

"You have to stop shouting, you're upsetting the dog." Chris huffs.

"People would never respect you if this got out." Jim hisses.

"Open your eyes Jim. This is the dirty secret of the high ups. The only reason I bought you up here is to get used to it, prevent you from making a complete fool of yourself when you're invited to an intimate social event. Okay not everyone does it but it’s an everyday conversation starter, it's not taboo, people don't hide it."

"They should." Jim says. "No. Forget that. It shouldn't happen, full stop."

"Well it does. Leo's fifth generation. That'll tell you how long it's been happening." Chris counters.

"They're bred?" Jim questions.

"I meant what I said when I said he was pedigree." Chris nods.

"Have you bre- has he..?"

"He bred with a bitch a few years ago. The pup is about four now, I think." Chris explains.

"Four, he has a little kid and he's just..." Jim flings his hand in Leo's direction.

"He doesn't know any better. He's a dog Jim, that's how you have to look at him." Chris shrugs. "Brandy?"

"Yes, please." Jim nods.

...

Jim is privy to just _how_ normal this practise is among the brass and co. at one of Boyce's bimonthly tipples. Chris invites him as his plus-one. They take Chris' blacked-out hover and Leo is led into the trunk of it by a leash, attached to his collar. A navy thing that actually has an electronic dog tag with Leo tastefully printed onto it.

"He's microchipped. But it's tradition." Chris says when the magnetic leash attaches to the dog tag.

"Won't he be cold?" Jim asks. He's not intimidated by or uncomfortable with nudity but it does seem somewhat impractical.

"He's used to it, Jim. Phil's house is like a furnace anyway."

And it _is_ warm. Jim takes his dinner jacket off and hands it to the valet, who looks well treated and not coerced in anyway. Although who knows? When Jim enters the drawing room the sight of so many naked bodies sparks a twinge of something low in his belly and for the first time since meeting Leo the erotic-ness of it all is too evident. Jim's brain fires pulses of disgust to counterbalance his slowly developing hard-on and the world seems to right itself. 

"Captain!" Boyce smiles warmly. 

"Admiral Boyce." Jim greets politely.

"Call me Phil, please." Boyce requests, looking genuinely happy to see him, which is strange because Jim doesn't really know Boyce and has spent as little time in Starfleet Medical as possible.

"Well then you'll have to call me Jim." Jim smiles, shaking the proffered hand.

"You thinking of getting a pup?" Boyce asks.

"No!" Jim baulks and then feels slightly embarrassed. "Wouldn't be fair." He says softly. "Me being in space all the time. The Enterprise is set to go in a few months."

"That's considerate." Boyce nods. "I always think you should spend a year or two with a dog before you leave them for long periods of time. They need stability."

"Oh Phil." Chris laughs. "You talk about Dutch like she's your child."

"She _is_ my baby." Boyce chuckles.

"Dutch?" Jim prompts.

"Duchess." Boyce expands.

"That's sweet." Jim returns. Not sure what else to say. Then a woman, who, by the looks of her furred additions and dyed white hair, must supposedly be a Dalmatian, slinks up beside Boyce and kneels. Her paws are set on the floor and her tail is... Wagging.

"Her tail wags." Jim says dumbly.

"Of course it does." Boyce nods. "Chris, have you failed to educate our young Jim?"

"We covered tails." Chris promises. "Didn't we?"

" _Less_ sophisticated." Jim reminds.

"There are receptors in the plugs that respond to... Clenching." Chris explains.

"And the tail flexes according to the clenching." Boyce adds.

"That's very clever." Jim says numbly. "Would you excuse me?"

Jim finds his way outside. He needs to breathe fresh air. This feels like a nightmare that he's not able to wake up from, and what does that say about his psyche? He sits down on a bench outside and leans his head back, eyes closed to try and find relief from all this madness.

Then there is a chin on his knee and Jim's eyes fly open. It's Leo. 

"Fuck." He hisses.

Leo nudges the bridge of his nose against Jim's hand, hazel eyes never leaving Jim's. He doesn't really smile with his mouth; it's more with his eyes. The way... Dogs do. He's endearing. Jim rolls his eyes and let's Leo nudge his hand all the way into the top of his head. His ears are down. Jim sneaks a quick touch. They're soft too. Real fur. Silky. Leo huffs, impatient.

He wants to be stroked.

So Jim strokes him.

He's a sucker for puppy-dog eyes.

"Leo!" Chris is gently calling into the garden and then he must spot them because he adds an amused 'oh'.

"He came out, is he allowed out?" Jim asks, suddenly feeling guilty and hoping Leo is because he really doesn't want Leo to get hit on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

"Course he is Jim." Chris smiles. "I just have to keep an eye in him because there are a couple if bitches about in heat and I haven't had him fixed."

"Fixed? Like castration?" Jim asks.

"Yeah. Most of the dogs are done. Especially if they've already had a litter. Boyce wants to breed Duchess and she's very comfortable with Leo so I'm holding off. And he's pretty well behaved, not like Richard's dog. Max used to fuck anything that'd move." Chris says and Jim can only nod. 

Once they're back in the house Jim catches himself watching out for the 'dogs' that have been castrated. The absence of the heavy weight of testicles makes Jim value his balls in a completely different way. He gulps at the thought of being 'fixed' and he heads back outside for more air. A curly haired thing that'd probably equate to a poodle gets a smack to the arse when it decides now would be a good time to bark the house down. The owner looks fondly exacerbated.

"He always does this." She says to Jim. Jim recognises her as Caitlin Barry. "It's all the excitement. AJ stop!" She scolds and the 'dog' rolls onto its back, presenting its belly, ( _and cock_ , Jim thinks), to be rubbed. "You're a good boy." She whispers, rubbing her hand over his smooth abdomen.

Jim makes a speedy exit before things get too explicit.

Everyone seems pissed when he renters the house.

"You feel better about all this now?" Chris asks when Jim sits down on the sofa next to him.

"I never have!" Number One declares but Boyce gives her a humouring look and One giggles. "They're lovely they really are, I just don't have the patients or the sex drive." And the group all laugh.

The 'dogs', the six that are were left, are sprawled over by the patio door. But as if Leo can sense Jim is watching them he gets up, rolls his spine and pads towards the 'humans'.

"He's like the daddy of the pack." One says into Chris' shoulder, her glass of Merlot spilling onto Boyce's cream sofa. While One doesn't have a 'dog' of her own she still dotes on them as if they're all hers and has a particular fondness for Barry's newly acquired poodle. Bones pads over to Chris and slumps at his feet, but suddenly his ears go down and he begins scratches his nails at the hardwood floor.

"Chris, sort out your mutt." Boyce says with no actual heat.

"Leo, Boycey's being a bitch so please stop scratching his floor before he cries." Chris murmurs, pulling Leo's face up to his by the 'dog's' chin and kissing his cheek. Leo clearly doesn't have a clue what’s being said but he must assume he's being praised because his tail whacks against the floor enthusiastically.

"When is your boy gonna get my bitch pregnant?" Boyce demands, voice slurred.

"You told me to keep an eye on him!" Chris exclaims. "They were nearly at it the other day and I pulled him off her."

"Leave him off now. I want puppies." Boyce says. "I have a few buyers."

" _Pup_ , singular." Chris reminds. "And we'll talk about it when you're sober."

"Don't get pissy just ‘cause you want to give it to Jim." Boyce huffs.

"Phillip!" One scolds.

"Chris?" Jim questions.

"It was just an idea. Don't worry about it." Chris shrugs.

...

 But Jim does worry about it. He worries about it every night he stays in Mojave. Worries about it when he hears Chris' breathy moans at night alongside a low keening sound but then is faced with the sight of Chris feeding Leo chunks of chicken from his hand the next morning.

"I need you to watch the house for a while." Chris says one evening when he re-enters the sitting room after spending over an hour in his office on a long distance comm call.

"What? Why?" Jim questions.

"I've been called away to sort out some negotiations on Delta V and my usual house sitter already booked three weeks away on Risa." Chris says ruefully. "I'm sorry Jim I know you're meant to be relaxing before you ship out and you probably had plans but-"

"Can't Boyce look after Leo?" Jim asks.

"I could ask... But I just thought-" Chris pauses and looks mildly disappointed. "No you're right. I can't just expect you to put your life on hold for two months so you can dogsit."

Jim doesn't want to disappoint Christopher Pike. He's already lost one father he doesn't want to push his second chance away. "No Chris." Jim sighs. "It's alright. I'll do it. But when do you leave?"

"Tomorrow, but I'll leave you a credit chip with enough to cover everything that could possibly happen and to feed you both for the two months. Then you're free to spend your leave however you like. No more babysitting." Chris promises.

"There are things I can do here. I'll just have to be home in time to let Leo out." Jim jibes and then realises that he's never thought of the logistics of that inevitable circumstance. Chris must see the thought process flash through Jim's eyes and he grimaces.

"All you have to do is take the plug out and stick it in the steriliser. He'll sort himself out and then you just slip it back in once the light on the machine goes green. One'll be round twice a week to clean him, not that you'll be..." Chris offers Jim a wry smile. "Well anyway."

"I don't know about all this." Jim says.

"You'd be doing me a huge favour." Chris pleads. "And he really likes you."

"How can you tell?" Jim asks, caught off-guard by the compliment.

"He just seems calm around you." Chris shrugs. 

"You should write me a list or something." Jim says. 

...

Pike's list goes something like this:

_0800: Let Leo out_

_0830: Breakfast - mash up two bran bars with milk - add a banana every other day- leave in his bowl - he'll eat when he feels like it._

_1230: Lunch - fruit salad or something of that description - you can put it in the bowl but sometimes he likes to be fed by hand. NO PINEAPPLE._

_1700: Dinner - whatever you're making - try and keep it some way nutritional, please - in the bowl same as breakfast._

_1900: Let him out._

_Every second day - bath - it's not as awkward as you think it'll be. Towel dry him before he gets out if you value your clothes._

_Comm One if anything seems amiss. She'll be by on Tuesdays and Fridays unless she tells you otherwise._

_Me - 342889_

_One - 665910_

_Phil - 411237_

...

When Jim goes in search of Leo that first morning he doesn't find the 'dog' in his basket but curled up under the cover of Chris' bed. He doesn't know if this is the kind of thing that the 'dog' should be reprimanded for and so he wakes Leo up and considers this one of those situations wherein what Chris doesn't know won't hurt him. If Leo wants to sleep in his masters bed Jim isn't going to stop him.

He's probably pining.

Once they're in the kitchen Jim takes a few moments to ready himself for the next debacle, Leo waits patiently by the back door and just watches Jim. Jim doesn't know if this is meant to be a quick no-nonsense sort of encounter or whether stroking and such should be involved.

Jim just settles a hand on the base of Leo's very human, very bare, back and eases the plug out with the other hand. He unlocks the back door and Leo trots out, playing with some of the shrubbery and pursuing generally _normal_ canine pastimes. Jim can't bring himself to wait at the back door, feels like Leo deserves the privacy and so he heads back into the kitchen to grab himself some breakfast. Half an hour Leo's pads back through the garden door and just waits on the mat. Jim can see his paws are filthy with the red desert soil that fills the garden and when Jim looks out surely enough he sees the evidence of the 'dog's' digging.

"Aren't you only meant to do that if you have a bone?" Jim asks as he takes the plug out of the sanitizer, then he pauses and when he looks down at Leo he's bent forward on his forearms, arse presented for Jim's leisure. Jim's had an arse or two presented to him in his time, he's James T. Kirk for Christ's sake, but this is different and Jim doesn't know how Chris can do it. Leo is so unwaveringly loyal, unfalteringly obedient that it just feels like taking advantage. Leo makes a gentle inquisitive sound as if to ask what's taking so long and Jim is snapped out of his reverie. The plug takes minimal effort to slide in. Leo wiggles his hips a bit and roles his spine, the tail gives a wide swoosh and Leo trots over to his bowl, gesturing to it with an incline of his head.

It's like he's the one minding Jim.

Jim follows the rest of Chris' day plan not feeling half as awkward about feeding Leo by hand when he's been playing about with his arse all morning. That is until Leo playfully nips at Jim's finger. It's bad enough seeing a naked, and undeniably handsome, man knelt at your feet with his plush lips wrapped around half a strawberry, without him sucking at your fingers while he does so. Jim pulls his hand back and says: "No." Softly but firmly, the voice he uses when Sam's boys throw sand at each other when he takes them to the park. Leo does it again anyway. Jim scoffs and tries the more canine-friendly: "Nicely." With a slight warning edge to his voice. Leo huffs and just rolls the last piece of melon out if the bowl with his tongue and goes off in search of something more stimulating to award his attentions to.

Jim feels slightly hurt. Then he shakes his head and heads for Chris' library.

 ...

The bath thing is funnier than it should be. Jim does value his clothes and so he just wears some sweatpants and one of his old Starfleet t-shirts.

Leo doesn't have the usual hesitance of a dog in regards to water, he is only too happy to step into the basin when Jim opens the convenient little ceramic door. Then Jim fills the tub and adds a few bubbles. He wipes him all over with a cloth, taking his tail out and sterilising it again while he wipes the flannel down the crease of Leo's arse. It's all quite _unsexy_ what with Leo more interested in the rubber duck sitting on the taps. Leo doesn't even harden when Jim drags the cloth over his perineum and round his balls to smooth over his dick. Jim laughs at his own paranoia and concentrates on washing Leo's hair instead, taking extra care to mind the inside of his ears which Leo helpfully folds. Jim wonders if that's controlled by electrical workings or rerouted nerve impulses.

Jim has to admit that Leo is a biological triumph. He bets any doctor would cream themselves at the chance to take him in for testing.

... 

A few mornings later Jim awakens to the feel of soft skin pushed up against his hip, and a head of hair lain on top of his thigh. Jim's immediate thought is 'fuck' and he pulls back the covers back to reveal Leo curled up at the bottom of the bed using Jim's thigh as a human pillow. The immediate swell of light must startle the 'dog' and his eyes open, bright and alert, then he yawns and licks a stripe up Jim's thigh in a decidedly un-canine way.

Jim is not best impressed.

Jim's morning wood, however, is.

"Down." Jim orders, frowning at Leo. Leo eyes Jim thinly covered erection with mild expectancy and a slight cock of the head, which Jim has realised means he's assessing the situation. "Bad dog." Jim says, pointing at the door. "Out."

Then he looks at those big hazel eyes and feels like an asshole.

"Please." He adds. But it clearly makes no difference, Leo just sets his chin back on Jim's thigh and closes his eyes. Jim looks at the chrono. It's only 0700. Jim shifts out from under the weight of Leo and shuffles out of the bed. The 'dog' doesn't seem to care and Jim is grateful for that.

Until the doorbell sounds. He's not grateful then because it's Tuesday.

"Jim." One greets.

"Admiral." Jim returns with a smile.

 "Leo!" She calls and heads for the sitting room. She has what seems to be a pretty comprehensive medical kit and Jim wonders, not for the first time, what it is One actually does. "Chris usually does all of this general upkeep but with him away and me a lady of leisure." She pauses to roll her eyes. "I've been ordered to oversee his health. Chris gets very antsy about who looks after Leo."

"I have no clue why he trusted me then." Jim admits.

"No experience of dogs before you came to Mojave?" One asks.

"I wasn't even aware they were a thing." Jim replies, just as Leo pads into the room. It dawns on Jim how difficult it would be to manoeuvre down stairs on your hands and knees and feels immediately very sorry for Duchess.

"Does Boyce let Duchess upstairs?" Jim asks, figuring One, if anyone, would know.

"No, her basket is made up downstairs." One says, ushering Leo onto the mat she's set out.

"But what about when they..." Jim eyes her provocatively.

"Boyce has a playroom downstairs. Dogs aren't usually allowed in their owners bedrooms." One explains.

"Is Chris an exception to that rule?" Jim asks tentatively.

"No, why? Leo been sneaking in his bed?" One inquires.

"I figured he was pining." Jim shrugs.

"Get him out if the habit now or Chris'll do his nut when he gets home." One suggests.

"Right." Jim nods.

"He been digging too?" One asks, inspecting the nails on his left paw.

"In the garden." Jim nods.

"He's such a naughty boy." One coos, more at Leo than at Jim. And Leo wags his tail at the pleasantness in her tone. "But we mustn't be naughty Leo. No more digging up the garden." She warns and he growls at her. "Hey!" She snaps. "None of that or I'll get the paddle."

Leo quiets at the threat. And his medical continues in an awkward silence that makes Jim want to flee from the room. Then One takes a douche out of her bag and Jim excuses himself.

"I think the behaviour might be an attempt to get your attention, they're very dependent on human contact. They loved to be loved. Just spend some time with him, don't be afraid to be tactile. And if you can't do it schedule some play dates with Phil so Leo can work out his frustration with Dutch." Is her only piece of advice before she leaves and Jim is once again left alone with a 'dog' he doesn't want in a house that isn’t his.

... 

Jim walks into Chris' playroom knowing that this is the only room in the house he hasn't been into and therefore it _must_ be the playroom. It's about half four in the afternoon a few days after One's visit, and he realises absently that she'll be back again tomorrow. The main feature of the room is the low rounded bed; it's like Leo's dog basket only four times the size and way more luxurious looking. The dog bed under the stairs just reminded Jim of a bucket-chair that had its legs removed. This dog bed looks erotic. It's got satin sheets and a dark blue drapery around it. It's quite classy.

There's also a cabinet at one side of the room and two bedside tables that are made so that they fit into the curve shape of the bed. Jim walks over to the cabinet even though he knows he shouldn't. And he opens the top draw. The discipline draw is what Jim mentally names it before closing it quickly. Leo's fear of paddles seems to have been well founded. And whips and crops. No rolled up newspaper though. The next draw just has various types of restraints and more leads and collars than Jim would know what to do with. There are gags and muzzles in the next draw. Jim pulls out the muzzle and looks at it. It's a wire cage that ties around the head with a leather strap. It's moulded in the shape of a nose and has some give to accommodate lips but Jim can't see how it would silence anyone.

Maybe that's the point.

With the muzzle Leo could growl but not bark. He could whimper and keen like he'd heard on those nights when Chris was still here. The last draw seems to be a more miscellaneous sex toy draw with plugs and vibrators and anal beads etcetera. Jim guessed he would find lube in the bedside tables but in one of them he also finds a remote. It doesn't look like a control pad for the blinds, and the lights are voice activated. The _whole house_ is pretty much voice activated. It looks like an external control for a vibrator.

When Jim turns to leave Leo is standing in the doorway.

It's for the tail, is Jim's first thought.

 _Fuck_ , is his second.

Leo pads over to the bed. And because he's on his hands and knees it looks more seductive than it should. Jim thinks about the man's autonomy, about his choice, about how unfair all of this is.

He presses 'low' on the control pad. Leo stops and rolls his hips, eyes fluttering shut like a _dog_ getting his tummy scratched. Jim turns the thing 'off' and almost runs from the room.

...

Leo follows him around like a little lost puppy for the remainder of the week. One thinks the pining is sweet, little does she know the only thing Leo's pining is sexual gratification. Or maybe she does know that and that's why she's smirking.

"Have you talked to Phil?" She asks.

"Yeah I'm taking him over tomorrow." Jim says.

"Good. Because he's fit to burst, it's a wonder he's not humping your leg." She scolds.

"Boyce said he was busy until tomorrow, we're meeting the first chance he's had." Jim counters defensively.

"Are you going to take the pup?" One asks. "It won't be worth much as a cross but I bet it'll be a sweet little thing."

"I don't know. I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with all of this." Jim says hesitantly.

"You're just clinging onto the way you think you ought to be thinking." One says. "You don't want to see them for what they are."

"Perverse sex toys?" Jim spits.

"In the eyes of a bigot yes I suppose so. But does Chris seem like some sort of cruel pervert to you?" One questions easily.

"Of course not." Jim huffs.

"Just be a bit open minded, I'm sure you can manage it, your sexual exploits are legendary after all."

...

Everything goes well at Boyce's. Leo and Duchess are ushered into the playroom to fulfil their biological urges while Jim is offered lunch in the pantry.

Leo seems calmer once they get home. Settled. And Jim feels calmer too. He was starting to worry about what compromising position he would wake up in even though he has repeatedly told Leo to stay in his own bed.

It's an early evening about a month after Chris has left, Jim is watching some new action flick because he's exhausted every bar within driving distance and Leo is curled up on the floor under his armchair with his head on Jim's knee. Jim can feel the rise and fall of Leo's chest against his calf as he absently strokes the dog's fur.

Jim thinks he hears the front door unlock and when Leo lifts an ear his suspicion is confirmed. "Sick 'em." Jim says sardonically, smiling when Leo growls playfully.

"Only me." Chris' voice is light and he gives Jim a wide smile when he steps into the sitting room.

"I know you don't have him in the sitting room..."

"It's only when I've got guests, just out of politeness. He's always in here when it's just me. Big old house gets lonely doesn't it?" Chris smiles at Leo, kneeling across from him and stroking his cheek.

Leo leans forward and pecks the side of Chris' mouth.

"I'll make some coffee." Jim says as a means of extricating himself from the intimate moment.

"Na, leave it. I'm pretty beat. I'm going to head to bed and we’ll catch up in the morning." Chris says, clasping Jim's shoulder and making his way out of the room. Leo follows and Jim waits at the door to see whether Chris will walk down the hall to his bedroom or cross the hall to the playroom.

Jim feels a spike of jealousy when Chris leads Leo into the playroom.

...

"How’s Duchess?" Jim asks the following morning when Chris cuts the comm link with Boyce.

"She's doing well. For two weeks along anyway." Chris scoffs.

"How does this work?" Jim asks and Chris frowns in confusion.

"What?"

"Me taking the pup." Jim replies.

"You want the pup?" Chris smiles and Jim shrugs and looks up at Chris who's started to wash dishes.

"I guess. I don't know. Maybe?" Jim smiles weakly.

"So much conviction, Captain." Chris mocks.

"I just want to know all the logistics first." Jim says. "Do I have to raise the child? ‘Cause I don’t think I could... You said you've only had Leo ten years."

" _Only_." Chris agrees with a scoff. "You buy the pup from the bitch’s owner. And when the child is born it is raised like any child for the first year to eighteen months depending on its development, although it isn't encouraged to learn to talk or walk."

"Right and who does that?" Jim asks.

"For the first ten or twelve years pups are kept in an orphanage type place, a specialist place for all of these altered children. They have the surgery when they're about five or six, it means that they have ample time to get used to it but are strong enough to heal with fewer complications." Chris explains. "So even though you'll buy the pup now you won't really have much to do with it until it’s about twelve. And even then it’s a very tentative thing. The three if us, you, myself and Phil meet with the specialists and go over all the dos and don'ts so they can give you what you want from a dog but they can also let you know what they expect."

"Like an adoption interview?" Jim asks.

"Yeah sort of, although it’s slightly different. Some people are more emphatic about just how canine they want their dogs, some people like to do all the house training once the dogs in their ownership, others want a trained dog so they don't have to spend months cleaning up piss from their bedroom floor. Some want more canine features, you know, like Max has whiskers. Phil does a lot of that stuff."

"Tight knit community." Jim says.

"It's not only Starfleet personnel, it just so happens a lot of the best and brightest are working within Starfleet and they're usually high up." Chris counters.

"And the sex stuff?" Jim wonders.

"It's really up to you, Jim. Like you said, if you just wanted a dog you'd buy an ordinary dog. If you're considering it you must be coming round to the idea in a sexual capacity." Chris reasons.

"I don't know. It's intriguing, to have all that control and to have someone trust you so implicitly. But then I think would he have chosen this life if he had a choice?" Jim says and wonders if maybe he isn't slightly attracted to Leo just because he's a good looking man and not because he has paws and a tail. "It makes me doubt myself."

"You could always take on someone who's elected to have the surgery." Chris suggests. "If that makes a difference, but you have less say over the process, of course, and less choice because there aren't many."

"What if I'm not cut out for it in the end?" Jim asks.

"I'll find someone else for the pup. No harm no foul." Chris says. "Maybe I could finally convince One to take a dog."

"Would you mind if I stayed for a few more weeks?" Jim asks. "I know you're home early and you probably want some time to yourself."

"Well I'm going to be busy with Starfleet business but I'll be able to do a lot of it from HQ. I'll have shorter off world trips and I'll be back here more so you're more than welcome to stay as long as you like." Chris says. "Would the gender of the pup make a difference?"

"I don't think so. I'm not bias either way." Jim admits and Chris nods. "Did you buy Leo as a pup? Did you do the whole process?"

"Yes, with my father being an Admiral I always sort of knew about dogs. He asked me if I wanted one for my eighteenth birthday, knowing that I wouldn't really need to take care of it until I was about thirty. The McCoy farm was apparently a great pedigree, Leo cost my father a bomb but he said it would make for a great 30th birthday present too. I first met him when he was ten and I had a similar reaction to you but I preserved for the sake of my father. I made Captain at thirty-three, Leo was fifteen. I couldn't afford to take the time out to settle him so I waited three years, the mother's breeders kept him. I believe his mother was called Peaches and they'd just had her put down so they didn't mind holding him for a while. I took him home a couple of days after his eighteenth birthday, took a six month sabbatical. Had him ever since." Chris explains.

"Leo and Duchess will have a cute kid." Jim says.

"They're a good looking pair." Chris nods.

"It'll be twenty five years younger than me." Jim says.

"Duchess is only nineteen." Chris says.

"Christ." Jim breathes.

"Yeah. Phil's had a dog before. His parents bought a pup when his mother was pregnant with him. They'd been together since Phil was sixteen." Chris explains. "Delilah was her name. She was a Dalmatian too."

"Not-"

"No. They weren't related." Chris shakes his head. "Duchess was naturally a mousy blonde but Phil sorted it all with the breeders."

"People I know could have dogs." Jim says absently.

"High society Vulcan's often do. What with them seeing humans as slightly inferior beings." Chris chuckles. "Old fleet families would be good suspects too."

"At least if I have the pup I know it'll be looked after properly." Jim says.

"Exactly."

...

Chris is away to lead a tactics conference on Casperia IV when Leo sneaks into Jim's bed again. Jim wakes at 0342 because Leo is licking circles into his shoulder blade. Jim is slightly soothed by it until he realises its Leo.

Jim wonders if this is like cheating.

"Leo, no." Jim huffs half-heartedly. Leo growls and nips at Jim's biceps. "You _cannot_ want to play now." Jim adds disbelievingly. Then Leo shuffles closer to Jim and he feels the press of the dog's erection against his hip. Jim turns over to look at Leo and sees primal desire in his dark eyes.

Maybe Jim does it because he knows Leo won't tell Chris - c _an't_ \- tell Chris.

He kisses him. Open mouthed. Pulling Leo closer to him with two hands, one at the side of his neck and the other gently tugging at the hair of his nape. Leo's paws are at either side of his ribcage but his legs are tangled with Jim's. Jim only realises he's also naked when they're erections rub against each other.

"Fuck." Jim hisses. Stroking Leo's ears earn Jim a pleased moan that sounds slightly more human. That only seems to encourage Jim's cock which is leaking precum against Leo's abdomen.

The rutting is quite animalistic.

Jim kind of loves it.

So does Leo, it seems, because they both come quicker than Jim ever has before in his life.

"Fuck." Jim pants. Leo just scoffs and curls around himself beside Jim's legs. He doesn't bother to go back above the covers and Jim doesn't push the matter he just strokes Leo's cheek until he's sure the dog is asleep. Then he sneaks to the en-suite to clean himself up.

...

He feels guilty when Leo starts coming into Jim's bed even when Chris isn't away on missions.

"No." Jim says as he tries to silently lead Leo back to his basket in the hall.

But one night Leo barks. And he doesn't look as if he'll stop anytime soon. Jim doesn't know whether to scold him or just run before Chris wakes up. Instead he taps him on the bridge of the nose. Leo stops barking and looks up at Jim with wide doe eyes.

"Sorry." Jim reasons. Leo barks again. And it's kind of like he's mocking Jim. "You're an asshole, you know that right?" Jim huffs. Leo just answers with one of his canine smiles and something that Jim's sure is a shrug. "Go to sleep." Jim says and Leo sighs, butting against Jim's thigh with his cheek before wandering back down the hall to his basket.

"He doesn't usually just wander into rooms." Chris says from behind him and Jim freezes. "Sorry about that."

"I must have left the door open. He probably didn't even realise." Jim says, trying his best not to sound flustered.

"Maybe, but still. He knows the rules." Chris frowns. "Unless he's been coming in and he just hasn't woken you before."

"Maybe, I don't always close the door." Jim shrugs. "I'm a pretty heavy sleeper. I only caught him today because I was reading."

"At two in the morning?" Chris asks.

"Couldn't sleep." Jim lies.

...

Jim sort of knows his luck will run out sooner or later.

He just thought it would be later.

He and Leo are tangled in sheets (and each other) when they're suddenly awoken by a cold voice commanding _lights thirty percent_ and then the dull illumination of the room.

Jim is speechless.

So is Chris.

Leo makes that canine crying sound.

" _Fuck._ " Chris huffs and Jim can completely agree with that sentiment.

"I'm so sorry." Jim breathes.

"You should go." Chris says.

"Yeah, of course." Jim says pulling the sheet off the bed to wrap himself in it as he rummages around for clothes. Leo moves around the bed to match his movements and looks confused by Jim's frantic pacing.

"You left his tail in." Chris says.

"Oh I haven't. We haven't." Jim shakes his head.

"You haven't fucked him." Chris states.

"No. I haven't." Jim agrees.

"Leo, out." Chris orders and Leo makes a show of getting off the ridiculously high, especially if you're on your hands and knees, bed before padding out of the room.

"Don't punish him." Jim pleads gently. "I'll go and he'll never see me again. It was completely my fault."

"Are you still going to want his pup?" Chris asks.

"No. No I can't. Can I?" Jim shakes his head and pauses pathetically. "I'm in a really weird place at the moment."

"I can see." Chris huffs out an amused sound. "Least it's clear to see you've come round to the idea."

"I'm really sorry." Jim repeats.

"So am I."

...

After seven months in the black Jim gets a comm from Admiral Pike, C.

_Little boy, yes or no?_

Jim's reply is something along the lines of:

_Yes._

...

Jim docks back on earth two months later and Chris is there to greet him. For the most part they're over the 'sorry I fucked your dog' thing and so the Admiral's smile is at least ninety-six percent genuine.

"You look well, Jim." Chris says.

"I feel good." Jim agrees.

"We're going straight to the specialist's, unless you have plans?" Chris wonders.

"No, no. I'm ready when you are." Jim says sounding anything _but_ ready.

The baby is blonde. With big brown eyes. Jim thinks it’s probably a good thing he looks more like Duchess and not like Leo. And they decide to harvest fur from a Dalmatian-Setter cross, once they've found a fairer Setter who's less brunette and more of a dusty blonde.

"He'll be lovely." Boyce says and Jim just nods dumbly. Struck into silence by how small and innocent the infant is and how it's going to have its life manipulated and crafted for Jim's benefit.

But what choice does he have now?

The child is quickly taken back into the care of his 'wet nurse' and Jim is led into a small conference room to sit opposite a young woman who looks caring but stern, something of an old style headmistress about her.

"Have you thought of a name for the pup?" She asks, stylus perched over a PADD ready to begin note taking. And Jim has but she doesn't give him a chance to say as much. "We recommend not choosing Terran names but it really is up to you." She adds.

 _Bones_ , he thinks. He likes the honest irony of it. But it reminds him of Leo too. Because that's all Leo has - his bones. All the man has control over. It reminds Jim to be humble, to treat the 'dog' with the same respect and loyalty the 'dog' will unfalteringly afford him. Because at the end of the day that's all Jim has too. His bones.

"Bones." Jim says and the woman smiles at the almost too-obvious humour of it and probably thinks its sweet or quirky or something equally trite. Chris raises an eyebrow in his direction and then just shrugs.

...

Jim had got another two months in command before the Nibiri fiasco and then he nearly loses his first officer to an augmented psychopath from the twentieth century. All before the Enterprise is even granted the right to start their five year mission. And Jim doesn't get much of a break from then on out.

He doesn't get denied when he applies for a second five year mission only three weeks after they return from the first.

It's Pike who approves his application. Jim hasn't seen Christopher Pike in nearly four years and the shock of seeing his name on the mission confirmation comm makes Jim feel guilty, like he's been neglectful of the only man who ever saw something good in him. So he drives down to Mojave that evening. He hasn't commed Chris but he's well aware the Admiral spends much time back at his California Ranch these days and doesn't think it'll be a big problem.

And it isn't.

Chris is more than happy to see Jim and they chatter away like a pair of old women until Jim is struck by the silence in the house. Jim angles his head to look for the dog basket under the stairs.

It's gone.

"You've missed him by about a month." Chris says softly.

Jim gulps down his grief and just squeezes Chris shoulder. He'll stay with Chris as long as it takes for him to make amends. And when he has to finally leave to dock the Enterprise he promises Chris he'll keep in touch. But irrespective of his good intentions, he still has to spend another five years of his life exploring and peace-keeping in the black and it’s hard to maintain contact. But he loves it, he does. Even if he’s always felt like something was missing. He doesn't know how to be anything other than Captain James T. Kirk most of the time but deep down he sort of can't wait to just be Jim again. 

He doesn't apply for a third five year mission.

...

When he meets the child for the first time he's five weeks shy of eleven. He's still got Duchess' dark brown eyes even though his hair has darkened slightly as he's aged. The fur of his ears and paws is a patchy mix of colours, whites and blondes and browns, patches of redder brown and then more muddier brown - the way he remembers Leo's being - and speckled with small clusters of black spots.

But he looks like Leo.

Big wide eyes and little button nose with a dusting of freckles over his cheeks. The tail apparently comes later - _thank God_ \- but they do have the fur of it made up if Jim wants to have a look. He doesn't. He just wants to sit with Bones for a while. He wants to make sure the child is happy here and content to be around Jim, he doesn't much care what his aesthetic add-ons look like.

Chris says if Jim will take one more five year mission he'll have done enough time in the black that he could take Bones home for his sixteenth birthday and retire a decorated member of the fleet. By that time Jim'll practically be forty-two. He can't really afford to be any older.

So he numbly nods at Chris and gently says goodbye to Bones.

...

The silence is what gets Jim the most. A sixteen year old boy shouldn't really know the meaning of the word silence. Bones seems happy enough to trot around the house, slumping here and there as he feels like it but it makes Jim edgy. He doesn't remember feeling like that with Leo. Maybe it's because they just didn't need to talk. Four months after bringing Bones home Jim does the first reckless thing he's done since sneaking himself into the hull of the Enterprise while still on academic suspension.

He starts teaching Bones to read.

It fails abysmally on his first few attempts. Bones seems more interested in flicking the pages with the heel of his paw than listening to Jim read. So Jim goes back to basics. He purchases some early learning PADD programmes and starts with those little flashcards that have a picture and a label underneath it.

"Cup." Jim says pointing to the screen of the PADD that currently displays an image of an old fashioned tea-cup. Bones just looks at Jim. "Cup." Jim repeats, a bit firmer. The kid stays quiet.

Jim skips to the next one and it's 'dog' so he turns off the PADD.

Jim then makes up a bedroom for him, with a square bed and no 'toys' in sight. And he slips Bones into a t-shirt and sweatpants after confiscating his tail, which he's been dying to do since the boy got here because a naked pubescent teen is not half as arousing as a naked Leo had been. Indoor toilet training follows and Jim mostly wants to curl up and die from embarrassment.

Jim also tries feeding Bones with cutlery. At the table. Sitting upright.

Which goes hilariously wrong more than once but he seems to get the hang of it after a while - thriving from the praise. And Jim commentates the situation with words like "fork" and "spoon" as he lifts the corresponding objects. Jim wonders what kind of dexterity Bones could assume if his 'paws' were removed. Although how the fuck he's meant to go about that he doesn't know. It's probably as likely as getting a speech therapist to help Bones with annunciation.

Jim's bedtime reading begins to centre on feral children.

It seems rather hopeless.

So maybe Bones will never speak but that doesn't mean he can't understand. Or read, and learn.

So Jim begins with some simple maths. Mostly addition and such, illustrating his points with counters or blueberries, (mostly because he never really liked blueberries but Sam always bought them and he still does so out of habit).

"Four." Bones says one day.

And it's the right answer too.

...

Jim waits for a repeat incident but it doesn't happen. He tries not to let it upset him and just let's Bones curl up next to him on the sofa every evening like normal. Alternating between educational holo channels and reading teenage fiction. Then Jim decides he wants to begin handwriting sessions, but that is quick to fall through. What with Bones lacking hands.

So he does what he said he wouldn't and comms Number One.

The woman is nearly sixty and well capable of finding somebody reliable to do the surgery, if it can be done, but Jim doesn't know if he can convince her to do it at all – or rather, get someone medically qualified to do it – plus he doesn't know if he can convince her to do it _without_ telling anyone.

"This is ridiculous, Kirk." She says sharply.

"Can you find someone to do it or not?" Jim presses.

"He won't know what to do with fingers. And they’ll have to re-break and set nearly all the bones in his hands. He'll need extensive physiotherapy." One explains.

"Do it." Jim says. "Please, Commander."

...

Bones spends a lot of time looking at his hands. The bruising is livid for weeks even after they're out of the splints and gauze. Jim uses the time it takes for Bones to heal to read up on physiotherapy techniques. It is four months before Bones can grip a pencil, and a further four before he has the patients to put it to paper. Jim just wants to know if his alphabet sessions are sinking in.

Bones writes his name the day after his eighteenth birthday.

Jim wants to frame it.

...

A few mornings later Jim wakes up to the smell of burning. He flies out of the bed like a man possessed and nearly falls down the stairs trying to get to the kitchen.

Chris Pike is sitting at the table with two slices of burnt toast on the saucer in front of him. Bones shrugs and picks an apple out of the bowl. "A little over done for my liking. I'm more of a medium-rare man." Chris says, slightly in awe despite the derisive comment.

"Morning, Bo." Jim murmurs, buttering one of Chris' slices of toast. "Chris."

"The ears look ridiculous on their own." He counters.

"Don't speak about him like he's not in the room." Jim says. "It makes potential speech acquisition even more difficult."

"Speech acquisition." Chris repeats.

"He said four once." Jim nods.

"Four?"

"He's good at maths, for an eleven year old at least." Jim shrugs.

"You're a very fucked up individual." Chris states.

"It's been said. Not as often as it should have probably." Jim agrees. "I just need to do this, Chris."

"Out of some misguided loyalty to Leo?" Chris questions.

"I don't know." Jim shrugs and then he reaches over the table to the kid. "You need to eat more than an apple, Bones." Bones rolls his eyes and gives Jim a moody frown. "Don't give me that 'I'm not hungry' shit and just have some cereal." Jim counters. "I bought Lucky Stars."

"Thanks." Bones says, and the sound of his own voice must surprise him because his eyes widen.

"You’re welcome." Jim returns, beaming. "You're a smart kid, anyone ever tell you that?"

Bones gives Jim a weathered looked then he tries to get his plush Leo-like lips to move accordingly again but he can't make his throat work and so he just clamps them together and sighs.

"It's alright." Jim smiles. "It'll happen when it happens."

"It's amazing." Chris says from the head of the table. "Children aren't meant to be able to learn speech after infancy-"

"It's difficult to predict, Bones is a one off case. He can't be called feral because he wasn't raised by other dogs, his behaviour was conditioned. And while I understand that the orphanage staff were encouraged not to talk around them when they're children they are around language to a certain extent." Jim says and then his gently rubs his knuckles over Bones' wrist. "We'll just do as much as we can, right kid?" To which Bones nods.

"He can understand you?" Chris asks. "Word for word."

"It's not that he doesn't get words, it's like teaching a foreign language. It's more the talking that eludes him. And grammar is meant to be the difficult thing for feral children so I'm teaching him about it as we go along too." Jim clarifies.

"A very holistic approach." Chris says.

"More like trial and error." Jim scoffs.

"I told One not to say anything to anyone else. Although Richard made a throwaway comment last week, said it was cruel for you not to let him play with the other dogs." Chris says and Bones is up like a shot, knocking over the glass of juice he's just poured himself.

"Bones!" Jim calls but he’s already halfway out the room, cereal and apple core abandoned.

"Sorry, that was careless." Chris says standing up to help Jim grab some kitchen roll.

"Sit down." Jim sighs. "It's a touchy subject."

"What have you told him?" Chris wonders.

"The truth mostly." Jim admits. "He didn't acknowledge me for three days, but I won him round with a copy of 'The Hobbit'."

"That novel is more ancient than I am." Chris laughs.

"He likes adventure stories." Jim shrugs.

"I thought you said you didn't want a kid." Chris teases.

"Things change I suppose."

...

Bones sits his high school equivalents at the age of twenty in the comfort of Jim's apartment. He also sits an IQ test, because Jim has always been curios.

His GPA is 4.0 and his IQ is 145

He's practically a clinically certified genius.

He still can't make his vocal cords cooperate on a regular basis.

...

"You could really thrive there." Jim can hear Chris say in the kitchen when he gets in from the supermarket. Jim didn't know Chris was coming over and he doesn't know if he's happy to see him when he steps into the kitchen and there are Starfleet prescription brochures on the table.

"Chris?" Jim questions. "What the fuck is this?" He stabs his finger at the brochure.

"An option." Chris says.

"Get out." Jim replies. 

"Dad!" Bones scolds. And the bag of groceries slips from Jim's grasp, the marmalade jar smashing against the kitchen tiles. "Shit." He adds and then puts a hand up to his throat. Jim looks at Bones for several long moments, waiting for more. His ears give a small quirk, and then they lower. And the room emit a collective sigh.

"You never said you wanted to join Starfleet." Jim says. And Bones raises an eyebrow, huffs and stares at him pointedly. Jim just scoffs and says: "you know what I mean."

Bones laughs and shrugs. He takes a notePADD from the kitchen table and writes _you never asked_. Jim feels immensely guilty until Bones puts a line through it and writes _that didn't sound as dramatic in my head_. Jim squeezes his shoulder and offers a crooked smile.

"What track would you enrol in?" Jim asks.

 _Medical_ is scrawled onto the PADD.

"Huh. I would have pinned you to engineering." Jim says and Bones smiles and writes _new challenge?_

...

To complete an MD through Starfleet takes six years, as it combines a premedical BA with med school. There isn't an accelerated course because the course load is heavy enough and over seventy percent of cadets drop out over the six years. There isn't a residency system because cadets complete clinic hours alongside their academic work. This all goes on while they also do standard academy classes that'll allow them to qualify as a Lieutenant as well as a junior doctor, specialised in emergency medicine. So Jim gets why the attrition rate is so high. But if this is what Bones wants to do this is what Bones is going to do. And Jim will be there every step of the way.

Literally, because he makes Barnett give him a teaching position.

" _Bones Kirk_?" Bones asks when he's filling his name out on his enlistment form.

"If that's what you want." Jim nods.

"Terran?" Bones prompts and Jim knows what the kid is getting at.

"If you want to give a more Terran name you can, you could shorten it to Bo, or spell it like b e a u?" Bones nods and writes the former spelling down; he never was a fan of French.

"Middle names?" Bones asks moving to the next box.

"Never really thought about it. Do you want one?" Jim asks and Bones shrugs. "Tiberius has got to be the worst name to be stuck with. You're probably better off without."

Bones just nods and continues to fill out the rest of the form in silence. There is a medical section about hereditary diseases that Bones leaves blank for Jim to answer. Jim types ' _unknown_ ' into the box and comms it to Starfleet admissions.

...

The other cadets get over Bones' ears with surprising maturity, but saying that, they've got green skinned Orions as well as antenna possessing Andorians in their classes, what did Jim expect? One student in particular must have _really_ gotten over it because he's currently sitting on the bed in Jim's spare room, in Jim's newly acquired instructors quarters, making out with Bones. It appears, for this student at least, that they're actually quite a turn on.

Jim stages a cough and the two boys turn to look at him.

"Captain." Bones' friend says, voice breaking slightly.

"You alright?" Bones asks, clearly adding _because if you are then go away_ in his head.

Jim huffs and then nods. "You staying for dinner, Patterson?" Jim asks, because he realises he knows this kid from his tactics seminars.

"Only if it’s no trouble, Captain." Patterson nods, grateful.

"When I'm out of uniform kid, you can call me Jim."

...

Bones breaks up with Patterson when he refuses to understand why Bones doesn't fancy the idea of being collared during sex.

"I'll fucking kill him." Jim seethes.

"No you won't." Bones warns and then pouts. "I didn't want to have sex with him anyway." Jim has found that in times of intense emotion Bones is way more able to verbalise his thoughts, he's just not as good at censoring them. "Are collars a common kink?" He asks. "Am I just being over sensitive."

"Bonesy you are not being anything other than what you are. If he can't understand why collars freak you the fuck out then he's a complete asshole." Jim says.

"But I didn't really explain, not the full story. Just said I had a bad experience." Bones shrugs.

"And that should have been enough. No means no." Jim assures.

"I haven't told anyone. I just don't know how." Bones sighs.

"Do you think it's important?" Jim wonders.

"In intimate relationships it might be." Bones shrugs.

...

Bones' next boyfriend reminds Jim of himself and they clash like no one’s business. He's a fourth year command track cadet who's exceptionally gifted but generally a bit of a nightmare in class.

Sounds familiar.

Jim's watching them eat together on the outdoor picnic benches from his office when Chris walks in and says "uncanny isn't it?"

"Coincidence." Jim maintains.

...

Then it's the summer break and Bones has invited his boyfriend back to their Riverside home before he gets his mission orders. When Jim hears the unmistakable sound of sex, with the breathy moans and little gasps, he thinks of Leo. Jim is insanely jealous of this kid who gets to feel those pillow-plump lips against his skin and run his fingers over those high cheekbones. Jim has had nothing but unfulfilling one night stands for the last twenty years and he misses what he had with Leo, however fucked up it was.

It makes him remember why he wanted Bones in the first place. And fuck if that doesn't make things complicated.

The signs of sex are clear on them the following morning when they finally get up for breakfast, even though its 1239. Quinn, the boyfriend, has a livid red love bite on his jaw and Bones' hair is all askew, one ear folded and the other perked. Jim doesn't stick around much over the summer, finding things to occupy his time that takes him outside of his rural little house. Bones throws him thankful looks because he thinks Jim's doing it to leave the lovebirds alone. Jim doesn't correct him.

"I think he has feelings for you." Quinn says one night at about 0300. He's sitting at the kitchen table in just his boxers when Jim gets home from screwing some young Betazoid lady. Jim just sits opposite him and shrugs.

"Has he told you?" Jim asks.

"Everything." Quinn nods. "Or at least it sounds like everything, I don't know how he could have suffered anything else and come through it. But you saved him."

"It's my fault in the first place." Jim sighs.

"No because if you hadn't... hadn't bought him… then who knows where he'd be now." Quinn counters.

"That was my rationale at the time." Jim agrees.

"Do you have feelings for him?" Quinn asks.

"I think I might have been in love with his father. I could never see them as dogs, it was so-" Jim pauses. "I should go to bed."

"Does he look like his father?" Quinn asks.

"His hair was darker and his eyes were more hazel, golds and greens." Jim says. "But yeah, pretty much a carbon copy. Only younger."

"I think he wants to love you like a father but can't quite shake the feeling you two should be lovers." Quinn admits. "I sort of hate you because of it."

"I can imagine." Jim scoffs. "I'm not sure I'm a strong enough man to say no to him."

"I'll try and keep him from asking then." Quinn says.

"You be sure to do that."

...

But Quinn can't really keep him from asking when he leaves on a six month tour of the Delta quadrant. Jim's still in his office a few days after the winter break has started. Bones knocks but doesn't wait for an answer before stepping into the room and grouching: "Jim you need to go home and get some rest, when was the last time you ate?" And he even huffs.

"I'm fine Bones, just want to get this paperwork done." Jim says. "It's half nine, shouldn't you be out kicking up a storm somewhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be." Bones says. And he's almost twenty-two so he knows how to intonate his voice with allure.

"Bones." Jim warns.

"I'm asking you, Jim." He says and the hair on the back of Jim's neck rises. "I heard you talking with Quinn last August. You don't have to be strong around me, I don't want you to."

"We can't do this." Jim says. Because he'll be forty eight in March and he's practically the kid's father.

"I just want you to kiss me." Bones says, batting his eyelashes and sitting against the desk in front of Jim, who subconsciously spreads his legs to accommodate the boy's body. "I think you should kiss me." He repeats more fervently.

"Sometimes I look at you and see the broken, tainted little ten year old that I first met all those years ago but I'm looking at you now and I see the man you've become. I can't ruin that.” Jim says. “I would ruin you."

"You've made me the man I am. You've done so much for me, there's just this _one_ more thing." Bones says. "Please kiss me."

And so Jim lifts his hand from where it was gripping onto the arm of his desk chair and he runs it up Bones' undershirt-covered arm, finally stopping when he reaches Bones' jaw. Jim pulls him closer more carefully than he's ever done anything in his life. When their lips meet it’s like a private welcome home party for just for Jim. And for the first time he thinks of how good Leo felt without any of the residue guilt and sorrow. Because he isn't kissing Leo, he's kissing Bones who _does_ have autonomy and _does_ have hands and _is_ consenting for Jim do this. Enthusiastically.

Bones ends up kneeling over Jim's lap as they tentatively try and balance in the desk chair. Both Bones' big, strong, soon-to-be doctor's hands are bunched in Jim's shirt, trying to pull Jim closer even though it's an impossible feat. Jim lifts off Bones' undershirt and licks along his tanned clavicle before Bones squirms slightly and murmurs _ticklish_. Jim sits back slightly and smiles and Bones begins to unbutton his shirt, pulling it open slightly before pulling on his belt buckle and unzipping his pants.

"Bo." Jim whispers. "I thought you just wanted a kiss."

"I want-" and the words get caught in his throat. And Jim can only desperately think _not now, please not now_. But with the small slither of moon-light in the darkness of the office Jim can just make out Bones' mouthed _fuck me_.

"Fuck." Jim hisses and he's twenty five again and Leo is licking a hole into his ribcage.

Jim thinks about that old saying. The one about the sins of the father. But he doesn't remember how it ends. So he edges Bones' sweatpants down and pulls his pants along with them. Bones' breath hitches at the pull of the material against his cock and he leans forwards so Jim can get them down further, lifting one leg and then the other until they're off and Bones is left completely naked. Jim doesn't know what to do so he just drags Bones in for another kiss, brushing his hands up the back of his nape to play with the fur at the base of his ears. Bones moans and untangles his hand from Jim's hair to ease Jim's erection from his pants. Jim bucks his hip to get a bit more friction and then draws a hand down to tug at Bones' cock, thumb sliding over his slit just enough to make the younger man gasp.

It takes a while before they come because Bones is a tease and Jim refuses to be outmatched.

But when they both finally allow themselves release Jim feels better than he has done in ages. And not just because it was an earth-shattering orgasm. He waits for the guilt and self-loathing to set in but it doesn't. Bones just pulls their foreheads together and smirks, because he thinks it is a little victory for all for himself.

"Don't get smug." Jim warns, but his tone is playful and light.

Bones just answers with a kiss to Jim's cheek and a yawn.

...

Quinn isn't surprised when Bones breaks up with him and is happy to buy the excuse that it’s because Quinn needs to focus in his career. Jim feels the familiar dirty feeling that comes with sneaking around and he wonders if he should tell Chris.

In the end he doesn't need to, because, like with most inconvenient times in Jim's life, Chris just strolls into the kitchen. It just so happens to be the exact time Jim decided to show Bones the benefits of a good rim-job on the breakfast counter. Bones has his legs pulled up to his chest with his arse hanging over the edge while Jim explores said arse with his tongue, casually sat in one of the dining room chairs holding Bones' arse-cheeks apart with two calloused hands.

"I should have learnt to knock by now shouldn't I?" Chris asks, sounding both nonchalant and exacerbated at the same time. How he manages that Jim doesn't rightly know.

"Chris!" Jim yelps, standing up to shield Bones' nudity from the Admiral. They're both practically still dressed really, but Bones is severely lacking in pants and Jim wants to keep the kids modesty intact. Bones just scoffs and sits behind Jim on the worktop, head cocked to one side so he can give the Admiral a wry smile.

"These belong to you I suppose." Chris lifts a pair of boxer-briefs from the kitchen floor and flings them at Bones, who catches them with surgical precision and signs a quick _thanks_ while trying to shimmy into them. "You going through another weird time again, Jim?"

"No." Jim says. "I think this is the most normal I've been in a while."

"I came by to give you some good news." He says, ignoring Jim in favour of looking at Bones. "The board are happy for you to add a two year accelerated doctorate onto your course if you can write them a preliminary report to precede your thesis. The only catch is they want it in by the end of this academic year. Which gives you what, seventeen days to write it?"

"Fuck." Bones says, playing with a stray hair at Jim's nape. He kisses Jim's shoulder and then slides off the worktop, taking a few PADDs off the pile by the fruit bowl and heading in the direction of Jim's home office. “I should probably get started.” And Jim and Chris nod in unison.

"How long has this been happening?" Chris asks once Bones is out of earshot.

"Since the winter break." Jim answers.

"It took you longer to break than I thought it would." Chris admits.

"What the hell does that mean?" Jim asks, frowning.

"Just that you've once again exceeded my expectations." Chris smiles tiredly. "You're a good man Jim. You two were bound to form an attachment and yet you waited six years to act on it when you could have been fucking him at sixteen."

"No I couldn't." Jim says.

"You _wouldn't_ , there's a difference. You wouldn't touch him because you didn't want to take advantage because you're _a good man_. You were a good Captain and you're a good teacher and you're going to be good to him." Chris assures. "I never gave Leo what you've given that boy and I know how much he meant to me, I can only imagine-" 

"Everything." Jim says without hesitation. "He's my _everything_. I was afraid at first, that I only felt the way I did because of everything that happened with Leo. That it was transference or something. And maybe it was at first. But I've fallen for Bones' brain and for his stubbornness and humour and things that are all his own."

"Then just go with it." Chris says. 

"I am." Jim nods. "I really am." 

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about." Chris says, suddenly hesitant. 

"Go on." Jim offers an encouraging smile.

"Phil is getting a new pup. As in taking her home _today_ , she's seventeen and for the first time ever it makes me sick to think about it." Chris says quietly. "I wanted to tell him about Bo. I know none of its on his fleet file and to the majority of people Bones just has an unpredictable speech impediment of some description and that you've been looking after him since his parents died but I wanted to tell Phil the truth. Wanted to tell him what those children could be if we weren't buying them as animals. I had convinced myself that they couldn't be any more than what they were bred to be and I was _so_ wrong."

"Chris." Jim puts a hand on the Admiral's shoulder to steady him. "You can't ask me for permission. You know you can't. And you're not going to ask this of Bones when you've just given him seventeen days to write the prelude to a piece of work he has to complete in five years’ time, for his _PhD_. He's only a kid."

"He was twenty-two in May, Jim, give him some credit." Chris huffs.

"Just wait for summer. Let him get this out of the way." Jim pleads.

"You can't be his father and his lover Jim, it won't work."

...

 Jim tries less and less to be a father figure, but it’s difficult not to let the need to protect Bones overwhelm him. Especially now, when Boyce is looking at Bones like the winning science fair project.

"And you can understand me?" Boyce asks for the tenth time in as many minutes. The new dog is shut up in the playroom so no one has to face her but Bones keeps looking round for signs of life. He nods again and throws an annoyed glance at Jim.

"Please stop asking him that." Jim huffs. "Not only is it irritating but you know the fucking answer because he's in your fucking medical track."

"Jim." Chris cautions.

"Can I?" Bones starts but then bites his top lip. He takes in an even breath and shakily says: "see her?"

"Bo I don't think-"

"Please." He interrupts Jim and looks at Boyce.

"Down the hall, first door in your left." Boyce says.

"Shall I go with you?" Jim asks but Bones shakes his head.

He's back in a matter of five minutes and he sits in silence for the rest of the day, managing a grave _thank you_ when they finally arrive home.

...

Jim really doesn't want to be fifty. That's what he really _does not want_.

Especially when he wakes up next to a bushy tailed, not-yet, twenty four year old who doesn't know what it's like to feel _ancient_. Bones thinks a blow-job will make everything better and proceeds to prove his point before rolling over and smirking at Jim. Blue eyes meeting brown.

"Told you." Bones says. "Don't get all mopey, I have big plans for the day."

"You have big lectures for the day. Which require your attendance." Jim reminds.

"If I skip class do you get to issue my punishment?" Bones teases, nipping at Jim's shoulder before sliding out of bed. Jim stares at Bones with a highly unamused look until Bones throws the sheet over him. "Just be home by six okay?"

"Why?" Jim calls after him.

"I want to blow you again." Bones calls back and Jim scoffs before heaving himself out of the bed and heading in search of the bathroom mirror. They've been saying fifty is the new thirty for three centuries now and Jim still isn't sure he believes it. He'll give it to himself; he does look good, especially with all the stress he's faced in his life. Does he look thirty? No. But he doesn't look fifty either so he figures its best just to forget about this day as anything other than the Memorial Day for the Kelvin. That in itself is stressful enough. And the fact that it’s the fiftieth anniversary probably means they'll want him to make a speech.

Jim gets back into bed and comms in sick.

...

"I love you."

It's the first time Bones has managed to say it. Not getting caught at the 'I' and then huffing and biting his lip. Jim simultaneously wants to celebrate it and just let it go, keep the naturalness of the moment as he thrusts inside Bones.

"I love you, too." Jim murmurs softly into Bones' skin. "So much." 

...

"I don't know how I'll ever do a long surgery if my hand cramps up after two hours." Bones huffs, a scowl on his face enough to match any angry Klingon. He dumps his bag against the floor and starts pacing around Jim who's sat on the arm chair in the sitting room trying to grade papers. "If I fail this practical I might as well just get myself put down be-" 

"Don't you dare say that." Jim warns and the sheer coldness in his tone startles Bones, who must run the words back through his own head before sighing. 

"I didn't mean it like that." He huffs.

"I don't care. I don't want to hear you say it again." Jim says. "You're in the medical track for fuck sake, hold your frustration for five minutes and make an appointment with a physiotherapist."

"I _hate_ physiotherapy." Bones states.

"I know, but won't it be worth it to pass your practical? In the meantime why don't you talk to Chapel about the circumstances and see if she'll postpone your exam date for a few months. They of all people should be sympathetic to issues of a medical nature." Jim suggests, voice still rough and clipped.

"You're right." Bones pauses. “I know you are, I'm just being a pissy twenty-five year old while you get to be the big wise Captain." Bones huffs, blowing his fringe out of his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you, you look really hot when you're problem solving?"

"You're insatiable." Jim murmurs.

"Wonder where I get it from."

...

Bones earns his MD with honours. It happens in the June after he turns twenty six and Jim turns fifty two. Jim sits in the crowd at the graduation ceremony and for that day he feels like the father. Even though what he wants to do when they get home is a particular brand of congratulations that both men enjoy greatly but can definitely _not_ be labelled paternal, what he wants to do now is bask in what that poor, broken sixteen year old has achieved. Bones still has two years to go, he’ll start his advanced PhD studies in the fall and will come out of it knowing more about educational physiology and the neurology behind knowledge acquisition than is probably necessary.

But today is his day. The first day that he might actually believe Jim when he tells Bones how smart he is. And Jim is thankful for that.

And if Jim himself has learnt anything from all of this it's that you don't need a dog to find companionship, loyalty and trust. He's learnt that love means more when it's freely given and not blindly bought. And he's also learnt that disobedience can keeps things a bit more interesting than obedience ever did.

And Jim knows it's not going to be a walk in the park, an idiom that he's not particularly fond of, but he wants to try anyway. Because that's all they can do. Because at the end of the day, when it’s just the two of them curled into each other, they're only human.


End file.
